


My Empire of Dirt

by theladyscribe



Series: Tennessee [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dark, F/M, Implied Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-10
Updated: 2007-07-10
Packaged: 2018-04-10 10:09:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4387715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theladyscribe/pseuds/theladyscribe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>By the time they arrive back at the Roadhouse, Jo is bone-weary and Dean looks as if he hasn’t slept in weeks. Ash is waiting for them, and he takes in the two of them with one glance before looking down and away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Empire of Dirt

The night after Sam disappears, there’s nothing gentle about how Dean drives into her, as if he’s trying to drown out everything but the two of them on the motel bed. If Dean sobs as he comes, Jo doesn’t say anything; she’s too busy trying to hide her own tears to notice anyway.

They drive back to Iowa in silence, stopping five times to fill the gas tank, four times just to fuck. Sam’s been gone for two days, and neither of them seem to be above their basest instincts. Jo is numb, so she can only imagine the complete emptiness that Dean must be feeling. He’s hardly spoken since they left New York, and Jo worries that he’ll do something reckless. Knows that he would not have walked away from the railing of the Empire State Building if she had not been there. She can’t help but be a little bit angry – both at him and at Sam – that she had to force him to move away from the edge, to take the elevator back down to the first floor, and to make sure that their eyes had not deceived them, that Sam truly had not hit the pavement below.

By the time they arrive back at the Roadhouse, Jo is bone-weary and Dean looks as if he hasn’t slept in weeks. Ash is waiting for them, and he takes in the two of them with one glance before looking down and away. He doesn’t ask about Sam – Jo figures he doesn’t really need to – but he does tell them there’s a room ready and waiting for them and he’ll be back after while with some food.

They collapse onto the bed, too exhausted both physically and emotionally to bother with removing even their boots. Hours (days? weeks?) later, Jo wakes to the smell of food cooking on the stove. Dean is still sleeping and she disentangles herself from him as gently as she can, freezing when he shifts, afraid to wake him, but he merely resettles.

She stumbles into the kitchen, where Ash is cooking something that smells and looks sort of like burgers but may actually be scrambled eggs. “You feel like talkin’?” he asks, glancing sideways at her.

She shakes her head. “Not really.”

He nods and concentrates on the task before him.

“It was awful, Ash,” Jo finds herself saying after they stand in silence for a few minutes. “We tracked him down to New York, you know that much, right?” She doesn’t wait for an affirmation before continuing, “Found him at the top of the Empire State Building. Dean… He… We couldn’t stop him,” she whispers brokenly. “He jumped off the railing. Dean tried to grab him, but he was too slow. We were standing right there, watching him fall. Dean – I think he would have jumped after him, if I hadn’t been there, wouldn’t have cared. He’s empty, Ash, and it scares me. I’ve never seen him so… lost before.” She shudders. “Anyway, I blinked once, and Sam was gone. He vanished completely. I thought it was a trick of my eyes – the height, the distance – but when we got back down to the ground level, there was nothing. No sign of him. Not even an ambulance or a police car to show that someone had been there. Nothing.”

“He say anything to you?”

Jo bites her lip. “He mentioned a Bible verse – Matthew chapter four, I think.” Ash nods. “You know it?” she asks.

“The temptations of Christ in the desert,” Ash says. “Turn stones into bread. Worship the Devil and the world’s your oyster.” He pauses. “Jump off the roof of the temple and the angels will catch you.”

“No such thing as angels,” says a rough voice from behind Jo, and she turns to see Dean walk into the kitchen. “Never has been, never will be.”

“C’mon, Dean,” Ash replies, “I see angels all the time. They’ve got purty wings and big tits.”

Dean sets his jaw. “Sure they do, Ash.” He stomps out of the kitchen.

Jo follows him to her bedroom, where he turns suddenly and presses her against the wall, kissing her fiercely even as he slams the door shut. She responds just as fiercely, pushing against him until he walks backward, drawing her with him. They tug at one another’s clothes, neither able to remove them fast enough, before finally settling with undoing belts and buttons and zippers. Jo kicks off her shoes and struggles to step out of her jeans before Dean pulls her down to the bed. She straddles his hips, he yanks her panties aside, and she sinks onto him.

It’s just like all the other times in the past three days – sex for the sake of feeling something, anything, no real desire in any of it, as if they’re both trying to fill each other up, but the sand just falls through the sieve.

Dean comes quickly and pulls away, leaving Jo unsatisfied. He stands and pulls his jeans and boxers back over his hips, his back to her as she rights her underwear and runs a hand through her hair. “Do – do you think he’s right?” he says after a long silence.

“About the angels?” He doesn’t answer, but Jo catches the tell-tale bob of his head. “I think Sam knew what he was doing.”

He turns finally and gives her a hollow stare that makes her stomach drop. “You think so?” he asks quietly.

She stands and comes toward him, putting a soft hand against his unshaven cheek. “I don’t know what to think anymore, Dean,” she whispers. “He wasn’t there – no body, no death. So maybe Ash is right. Maybe the angels caught him before he landed. I doubt we’ll ever know for sure.”

“I don’t like uncertainty,” he says bluntly. He moves suddenly and walks out the door, turning down the hall toward the kitchen.

Jo stays behind for a moment, pulling her jeans back on and yanking her hair into a bun before following.

In the kitchen, Dean is shoveling eggs into his mouth like he hasn’t eaten in days (and really, he hasn’t), and Ash is fixing a second plate of food. He sets it in front of Jo as she sits at the small table and says, “You know, those angels that got Sam, they’re not really about saving Jesus from the Devil. It’s a Psalm.” He scratches his head. “Think it’s number ninety-something. Or it might be that long one, one-nineteen. That one’s like reading a fucking novel.” He shrugs. “Anyway, they’re supposed to protect you and guard you. Guardian angels, get it?”

Dean shoves his plate away suddenly and shifts as if he’s about to dart out of the room again, but Jo grabs his hand underneath the table and threads her fingers through his. “Are you saying Sam’s a guardian angel?” she asks Ash softly.

He shrugs again and smiles lazily. “Maybe he is.”


End file.
